


Mercury Rising

by WestleyWatson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Chemistry, Demons, F/M, Ghosts, Haunting, Hunters & Hunting, Motel Hookup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 22:04:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18882154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WestleyWatson/pseuds/WestleyWatson
Summary: The door to the room opened and I had to swallow a gasp when I looked at the man sauntering in wearing khakis and a button down shirt. It was Dean Winchester. I would have known him if he was wearing a tutu and a rainbow wig. Any hunter would have.





	1. Chapter 1

I sat in the small conference room in my new business casual attire and picked at a loose thread on the well-worn office chair that I impatiently swivelled from side to side. I was second guessing the level of undercover work I was engaging in here. But I’d already gone through the trouble of getting hired, so I was in it up to my sensible cubic zirconia stud earrings. 

I planned to sit through this new-hire orientation and get my security card and then work on figuring out why this seemingly innocuous medical supply company had a long history of employees “retiring” only to be immediately institutionalized. I paid a visit to some of the victims earlier in the week. They all had memory loss, muscle weakness, and problems with speech. Some were now blind. Some were deaf. And all had a strange pink hue to their hands and feet. Vice President to babbling shell of a human being shouldn’t be a typical path for anyone. 

The door to the room opened and I had to swallow a gasp when I looked at the man sauntering in wearing khakis and a button down shirt. It was Dean Winchester. I would have known him if he was wearing a tutu and a rainbow wig. Any hunter would have.

I glanced at the doorway expecting to see Sam lumber in as well. But apparently the duo was a single for the time being since no one followed. 

Judging by his squeaky-clean cover, Dean must have done his homework and come to the same conclusion I had. Getting onto the secure floors was just too much trouble without the badge because this damn company was entirely too high on their own security. They had taken pains to plug up any of the usual holes. Each badge had biometric coding as part of a multi-authentication system. So, even if you could get your hands on someone else’s badge, it wasn’t gonna work without their retinal scan and rotating encryption key code. The only weak spot in their system seemed to be their hiring practices. 

“Your first day too, huh? I’m Dean,” he said as he leaned over to extend a hand to me. He didn’t know me. But why would he? I was a small-time hunter on the east coast. The Winchesters mainly operated in the fly-over states.

“Watts,” I said and immediately chastised myself for introducing myself by my last name. 

“Watts? Gotta first name?” Dean asked, giving me a little half smile that made my heart clench. I’d heard about that smile, those eyes, from other hunters. But holy hell. 

“If you call me Alice, there’s no guarantee I’ll answer,” I said, trying to refocus on the task at hand. I felt oddly exposed without any of my switchblades. I didn’t think it was smart to be packing weapons as a new hire, but Dean’s presence reminded me that I was in a potentially dangerous situation and I was unarmed. 

“Ex-military?” he ventured, raising his eyebrows at my hand’s involuntary wandering to where a holster would normally rest. 

“Something like that,” I said, laughing and forcing my hands to be still.

“Interesting locket,” he said, pointing at the bulky charm on my necklace.

Thankfully, the HR lady made her appearance and cut off our conversation. I serriptiously tucked my locket under my shirt, hoping that Dean hadn’t gotten too close a look at it.

We sat through hours of tedious information about health insurance and dress codes and security procedures. Throughout the morning Dean grew more and more agitated. I could practically hear his thoughts as he tried to figure out how to get out of this situation and still end up with the security badge at the end of the day.

When lunchtime finally rolled around, the HR lady deposited us in the employee cafeteria and said she’d be back to collect us in thirty minutes. She must have figured we wouldn’t wander away under the watchful and curious eyes of our new co-workers. I couldn’t help but notice that Dean attracted more than his fair share of appreciative glances. How did he operate covertly if everyone he encountered took an extra few seconds to drink him in?

Dean didn’t seem to register the attention. He sat across from me and devoured vast quantities of sub-par cafeteria fare as I picked at a limp salad. 

“So, what’s your story?” he asked me around a mouthful of fries. 

“You first,” I challenged.

“Sam and I decided we needed a little breathing room, so I took the east coast, he took the west,” he blurted out. “I’m willing to bet whatever creepy-crawly they have hiding out here beats the hell out of whatever lame case he finds.” I was so surprised by the lack of pretense that I choked on my diet soda. 

“Right around the time we were filling out our W-2s, it finally clicked. I remembered Sam droning on about east coast allies as I was loading Baby up to get away from his boring ass. He said I should look up this hunter who had the reputation of working well with others. Seriously weird in our line of business, by the way. And that locket of yours looks like it's sporting some serious wards. Anyway, I remember Sam saying something about a red-haired light bulb.” 

“Excuse me?” I said.

“Watts. Light bulb,” he said as if that was a totally normal connection to make. “Forty watt, sixty watt. You know?”

“So, where does this leave us?” I asked, leaning back in my chair in an attempt to look and sound casual. 

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“Well, I may have a reputation for working well with others, but you have exactly the opposite, Winchester.”

Dean took a moment to feign shock and indignation and then settled into a serious assessment of me that made me want to look anywhere but at Dean. 

“First of all, I’ve worked just fine with Sam for years,” he began.

“He doesn’t count. And, apparently, you felt the need to put most of a country between you,” I interjected.

“Second of all,” he continued as if I hadn’t said a thing, “since we’re both here, it seems like it’d be rude to ask you to leave.”

I snorted, which prompted Dean to give me another of his half smiles that would melt a glacier. 

Luckily, before I could embarrass myself by swooning, the HR lady returned to subject us to another few hours of crap that made me thank my checkered past for my resulting unconventional lifestyle. Did people really care about all this rigmarole? Paid time off in fifteen minute increments and jeans days and company discounts on cell phone plans? Ugh.

The most interesting part of the day was the tour of the facility. Room after room of every imaginable medical device - from thermometers to blood pressure cuffs and centrifuges to DNA sequencers. The main building contained labs and testing facilities as well as research and development. 

When we took a bathroom break on the tenth floor at Dean’s insistence, I stood at one of the windows in the social hub and looked out over the grounds. By force of habit, I scanned the surrounding area for surveillance points. There was a nice landscaped area between this building and the neighboring one. Someone could certainly set up a stakeout there.

Dean joined me at the window. “Your tat’s showing,” he said.

“Excuse me?” I hissed at him.

He pointed at my arm. When I was leaning on the window, my sleeve had ridden up enough to reveal the anti-possession tattoo on my wrist. I quickly pulled the fabric back over it and rejoined our impatient HR lady.

In the elevator one button labelled “B5” required both a security card and a physical key to access it.

“What’s up with B5?” I asked in a casual tone.

“Oh, it’s just storage for old stock. Some of it can be dangerous, you know. Safety standards for medical equipment have evolved a lot over the years,” she rattled on hasily.

Dean and I exchanged a look.

By five o’clock I could tell by the glazed over look on Dean’s face that he was not going to be showing up to work the next day. He was done with this charade and he’d make his move tonight. As we left the building, we made a whispered agreement to meet at a coffee shop down the block a little after midnight.

However, I wasn’t convinced that Dean would wait for me, so I decided to come back as soon as the sun set and use my little lookout spot. We were going to have to approach the building unseen to avoid questions and figure out how to get a key for B5. Some extra recon was in order.

I parked several blocks away at an urban trail head. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, strapped my phone to my arm and put on my reflective runner’s jacket. I tucked my locket under my shirt and checked that all of my switchblades were properly concealed. I looked like every other thirty-something trying to be a twenty-something on the trail. 

When I got close to the building, I pulled my phone off my arm and tucked it into my sports bra strap. I pulled a black bandana out and hid my bright red hair with practiced ease. Finally, when no one else was in sight, I ditched the outer reflective shell of my jacket in a bush and slipped off the trail. A few minutes of navigating slowly and silently through a wooded area and I was a hundred yards of open lawn away from my target hiding spot.

I waited for a good ten minutes before I risked dashing across the open space. I did a graceful tuck and roll when I got to the edge of the landscaping. With barely more than a rustle I broke through the low bushes and found myself in a little clearing that was hidden on all sides by foliage. I stood up, rather proud of myself only to come face to face with Dean.

“Watts,” he nodded at me.

“What are you doing here? You said we were meeting after midnight!” I hissed at him. He had changed out of his khakis and was wearing jeans, a tee shirt, and an unbuttoned collared shirt over it. The tee shirt looked like it might be a size or two too small, but I tried valiantly not to stare at his chest.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, leaning against the anemic trunk of a tree that had surrendered its territory to more manicured ornamental trees long ago. 

“I didn’t trust you,” I said, matter-of-factly.

“Well that’s not a good start to our partnership,” he tsked. “Aaaand...I didn’t trust you either,” he admitted.

“But I have the Sam Winchester seal of approval. Apparently,” I shrugged.

“And I don’t?” he countered.

I started to respond, but he lunged forward and clapped his hand over my mouth. I was so shocked by the abrupt invasion of my personal space that I dropped into a crouch and swept his legs. He hit the mulch with a dull thud and immediately returned the favor by grabbing my leg and pulling it out from under me. When I landed, he pinned me with his leg and put his hand back on my mouth. 

I brought a hand up swiftly to deliver a strike to his adam’s apple, but he anticipated the move caught my arm just before I made contact. I looked at him with wild eyes and he jutted his chin to the left. Then I heard it - the gentle shuffle of work-issued shoes on grass. A security guard was making his rounds and I’d nearly blown our cover. 

Either the guard was the world’s slowest walker or time slowed down in my fear. Dean and I held our positions and our breath. As the guard inched his way around the corner and the fear of being discovered ebbed away, I was left with Dean Winchester half laying on top of me. Since he still had his hand on my mouth, I took a deep breath in through my nose and was overcome with the scent of old books, leather, Irish Springs bar soap and a hint of cheap draft beer. 

My knee came up swiftly into Dean’s ribs. He huffed out a pained breath and rolled off of me.

“What was that for?” he grunted. It was a good question, actually. But I chose to ignore it and, instead, I stood up and brushed the mulch out of my hair. “I thought you worked well with others,” he groused.

“Another hunter would have stabbed you,” I said. “How long do we have to wait?” 

“Well, the last guard was five minutes ago and it wasn’t that guy. We should wait and see if they are on some rotating basis, or if it was just a shift change,” Dean said as he rubbed his side. “So, at least five more minutes. We can probably take that guy for his keys if we intercept in that camera blind spot,” he said, pointing to an area of the lawn.

I nodded and found a spot where I could survey most of the property without being visible to someone outside of the landscaped area. I couldn’t get comfortable though because Dean wouldn’t stop staring at me.

“What?” I finally snapped at him.

“What’s your story, Watts?” he asked.

“The usual,” I shrugged. “Getting revenge one monster at a time.”

“Nope,” he said, “try again.”

“I come from a long line of hunters and they raised me to be a one-woman demon exterminator,” I tried.

“False,” he countered.

“Why should I tell you?” I challenged him, never taking my eyes from the wide expanse of lawn.

He came to my side and remained silent for a slightly uncomfortable length of time. 

“Most people live their lives fearing that they’ll never make a real difference. Never make their mark on this world,” he whispered. “I live mine afraid that I’m making all the wrong difference. I know exactly how far my actions play and I’m pretty sure I’m fucking it up at every turn.”

“That why you needed a change of scenery?” I asked.

“I had to get away from Sam’s expectations, you know? He thinks I have all the right answers, or at least the right instincts. It’s too much sometimes. Time to disappoint a new audience with my fuck ups. Lucky you,” he finished. 

I leveled him with my gaze and sighed. “I was a high school chemistry teacher. My husband, Scott, was a history teacher at the same school. As it turned out, he was also the perfect vessel for an angel named Raeal. You can imagine our surprise when Raeal starting coming to us in our dreams, explaining what he wanted. Raeal was persistent, but Scott had no intention of giving himself over. 

“Then we learned that angels weren’t the only supernatural beings that existed. A demon possessed me. Raeal told Scott that if he allowed himself to be used as a vessel, he would exorcise the demon. Scott didn’t know any better. Didn’t know there were other options. And didn’t suspect that an angel could have sent a demon to possess me in the first place.

“Scott agreed. Raeal took Scott’s body and pulled the demon out of me. But instead of exorcising the bastard, he trapped him in here,” I tapped my locket. “Raeal charmed it to never come off of my neck. He told me it was to keep Scott in line. As long as he was allowed to stay, I was demon-free. But if Scott started making trouble, a few choice words and the locket would open.”

“What a dick,” Dean muttered under his breath.

“But my time as a demon motel taught me that there was a whole other world out there. I couldn’t accept that we were at Raeal’s mercy, so I started doing some research,” I explained. “I thought I found the answer when I found the anti-possession sigil. I got the tattoo and went to Raeal and showed him. He laughed at me and in my husband’s voice he explained to me how he’d peel the skin from my wrist and allow the demon to take up residence once again. 

“Luckily, the tattoo did get me something. It got me noticed...by hunters. When they heard my story, they came up with a plan to expel Raeal. But when the day came, everything went sideways. That was the day I learned about angel blades...” I trailed off. 

“And the locket?” he asked softly.

“I can take it off now. But I don’t,” I said. Dean nodded his understanding.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said. “I lost Scott, but I discovered a family. That’s why I help hunters whenever I can. They came up short that day, but they were trying. And if you’re trying to help someone, ultimately there’s no way to fuck that up.” 

“But what if --” he began.

“No,” I interrupted. “No way to fuck that up. Unless you don’t show up.”

He and I held each other's gaze until the soft shuffle of the guard’s feet reached our ears again. I looked down at my watch. “Same guy. Took him four minutes and forty seconds,” I said.

“I bet that gives us a good ten minutes before any alarm is raised,” he said.

“You think we can get in and eliminate an unknown threat in under ten minutes?” I asked him, incredulous.

He pulled a demon blade and gun loaded with rock salt rounds from his waistband and smiled at me as he took off. I had no choice but to follow. We moved quickly along the camera blind spot and Dean delivered a swift blow to the guard’s head. He went down soundlessly. I grabbed his keys and, using our new security cards, we were in the building.

When I glanced at my watch after I hit the “B5” button in the elevator, only 45 seconds had passed.

I pulled two switch blades from in my jacket. I could see the side-eye Dean was giving the small knives.

“One is iron and one is silver,” I explained. 

“I bet whatever this is down here is bigger than a cat and you won’t want to get close enough to use those,” he laughed. I flipped him off as we stepped out of the elevator.

A spirit immediately manifested in front of us. It was a man. A man that looked as if he had spent his life in a cubicle and his death in the sub-basement of an office building. Dean fired a round of rock salt at it, but it didn’t dissipate.

“What the hell?” he muttered as he tried several more shots. 

The spirit didn’t flinch and it didn’t attack. It hovered about ten feet away and watched us intently. That was more than creepy enough for me. I threw my iron blade with expert precision, aiming for the head. The blade went straight between the spirit’s eyes and out the back of its head with no effect. The blade lodged in a wall behind it. 

I looked around the room. Ancient broken thermometers and destroyed primitive sphygmomanometers littered the floor. 

“Who are you and what do you want?” I asked. Because when all else fails, strike up a conversation. Dean looked at me like I was nuts.

“You don’t seem very afraid of me,” the spirit said after a moment.

“No shit,” Dean retorted.

“Then perhaps you can assist me,” the spirit replied, unfazed by Dean’s hostility. “I have been unable to move on. Twenty years ago --”

“Hold up,” Dean interrupted. “You’re a ghost.”

“That is my understanding,” he replied.

“Why didn’t the salt or iron work on you? And after twenty years why aren’t you crazy or deteriorating or whatever?” he demanded.

“I discovered a way to replenish my strength. Allow me to demonstrate.” The ghost extended a hand toward Dean. Dean was yanked across the room toward him. 

“Watts!” Dean yelled as he tossed his phone at me. “Call Sam! Ask him what to do!”

Dean put up a spectacular fight as he was dragged across the floor. He jammed the demon blade into the floor to give himself some purchase. The spirit’s annoyance at having to work a little harder was apparent in his face and his shaking pink hand. 

Pink hand. That’s when a dangerous and reckless plan dawned on me.

“Watts!” Dean growled. “Go!” 

I ignored the command and used my silver knife to slice through the anti-possession tattoo on my arm. I saw Dean’s eyes widen, but didn’t hesitate. I wedged the blade of the knife into my locket, and twisted. Dean and the spirit froze as the black demon smoke swirled out of the locket.

The last thing I heard clearly was Dean’s voice screaming at me as the demon poured in through my eyes and mouth. Then the sickeningly familiar sensation of being pushed to the bottom of a well took over. I heard my own laugh echo through my mind with a harshness that I only heard in my nightmares.

“What have we here?” the demon cooed with my voice. “A Winchester?”

“Get out of her, you bastard!” Dean shouted. This seemed to remind the ghost of his original plan and he resumed pulling Dean toward him.

“Oh no, no, no, little ghosty,” the demon laughed. “The Winchester is mine.” I watched from behind my own eyes as, just as I’d hoped, the ghost dropped Dean and turned his attention to the demon stalking toward him. I felt my arms reach out and plunge into the icy cold of the spirit. Everything went white. 

“Watts? Watts? Wake up!” Dean’s voice broke through the blank slate of my mind. I blinked hard and found myself on the floor with Dean leaning over me.

“Dean?” I asked, totally dazed.

“Up you go!” he said as he hauled me up and supported me as he directed me out of the basement. He nudged a pile of pinkish-purple rocks out of the way as we went.

Once we were in the elevator, Dean peeled his outer shirt off wrapped it around my arm to stem the bleeding. He had a funny look on his face. 

“I realized that the ghost was the product of someone who had died of mercury poisoning,” I explained. “All of his victims had it as well. The memory loss, muscle weakness, trouble with speech, vision, hearing, but especially the pink hands. I think the high concentration of mercury in that basement kept him tethered there.”

I hid my injured arm as best I could and we walked out of the building through the front door with a calm and familiar nod to the front door guard as if we did it everyday. I glanced at my watch and saw that it had only been nine minutes from the moment we sprinted out from that landscaping hideout. 

As we walked across the parking lot the alarm sounded in the building behind us. We picked up our pace and rounded a corner. Dean’s car, Baby, sat waiting for us. We drove away at a non-suspicious speed. I found a first aid kit under the seat and began repairing the damage I had done to my arm.

Once we were a few blocks away from the building, Dean made gesture which invited me to continue my story.

“So, I figured if we could neutralize the mercury, it might neutralize the ghost,” I said triumphantly.

“Demons neutralize mercury?” Dean asked.

“Sulfur forms a stable derivative with mercury,” I clarified and I saw the light bulb go off in Dean’s head. 

“They pulled their base elements out of each other,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You rival Sammy on the nerd front, Watts.”

I could not stop grinning from ear to ear. The adrenaline was humming through my body and I felt lightheaded. Though that may have been due to blood loss. 

“That was a hell of a risk though,” Dean said after a few minutes. 

“Walking into a situation with no idea what we were up against and a ten minute deadline wasn’t?” I countered.

“I knew you had it,” Dean said.

“Liar!” I laughed. “Hey, where are we going? My car is back at the trailhead.”

“Oh, right,” he said, clearly neither surprised by this fact nor inclined to do anything about it. “Probably not smart to go back to that area for a while.”

“I gave up my apartment six months ago,” I said. “I’ve been moving around from place to place. Right now I’m at the motel out…” I trailed off as we pulled into the parking lot of the motel.

“Did you know where I was staying?” I asked, confused.

“What? No. This is where I’m staying,” he said. “You have a room here?”

“Yeah. Around back,” I said. When I saw the expression on Dean’s face, I swallowed a laugh. He looked like I had just dropped his favorite gun in a lake. He killed the ignition and stared straight ahead, not moving to get out of the car.

“You want me to pretend I have nowhere to go and have no choice but to join you in your room to wait out the heat?” I whispered. 

“Yes,” he whispered back without looking at me.

“Hey, can I crash with you?” I said in my regular voice. “I think we better stay out of sight for a while and my room seems to have temporarily slipped my mind.”

Dean turned to me then and reached his hand out to gently touch my cheek. “You’re kinda incredible, you know that?” he said softly.

“Only kinda?” I teased as I let myself lean into his touch. “Better up my game,” I said and broke the contact to open my door. “Your room. Now,” I said over my shoulder

I heard Dean laugh to himself as he got out of the car. He led the way to his room.

Once inside, I shed my jacket and it placed it gingerly over the back of a chair. Despite my effort, the jacket made a loud clank that was incongruous with the apparently lightweight material. 

“How many knives you got in there?” Dean asked. 

Rather than tell him, I pulled each knife out and laid it on the dresser. Once all ten were in a neat row, I opened each blade, listing off the attributes as I went. “Gold, silver, infused with dead man’s blood, this one is good against witches, this one works like your demon blade but not as strong, this one --”

I didn’t get any further in my inventory because the heat of Dean’s body next to mine became too distracting. He was standing very close. I caught his scent once again and my breath caught in my throat.

“You okay, Watts?” Dean asked. 

I nodded slowly and turned toward him. “You ever smell something and have such a visceral reaction that your body just kind of takes over and does what it wants without you?

He took a small step backwards, “Sorry, it’s been a long day. I should hit the shower,” he said sheepishly.

I reached out, grabbed his waist, and pulled him back to me. “No,” I laughed. “You smell like...exactly what I want,” I smiled. “Which is why I had to get you away from me back in the trees.”

Dean looked at me curiously and his hand drifted up to my face. “But not now?” he asked.

“But not now,” I confirmed. I slipped my hands under his shirt and felt the smooth skin of his sides. He gently let his fingers drift through the hair at the nape of my neck. He leaned in and kissed me. 

The slight scratch of his five o’clock shadow offset by the soft warmth of his lips was intoxicating. If I had intended to be cool about this, that plan went out the window as my hands ran up his back to pull the shirt over his head. Despite the fact that the shirt had left little to the imagination, it sent a thrill straight through me when it came off.

I took a second to note all of the various scars that decorated his torso. It erased any latent modesty I might have about my own war wounds. Well, that and the way Dean looked at me when my own shirt hit the floor.

Our mutual appreciation quickly gave way to the need to touch and kiss and lick that esteem onto every inch of one another. We took our time enjoying each sensation that temporarily erased the aches and pains from the job that brought us together.

It had been far too long since I had allowed myself to completely surrender to a moment and leave any caution or worry at the door. In fact, it hadn’t happened since the moment I learned there was more to the world than most people knew. But I was finally free from the literal demon around my neck and if I couldn’t feel safe with Dean Winchester pressed up against me, well... 

I was taken by how quickly we learned how to tip one another toward release. It occured to me that a complete lack of inhibition goes a long way toward that end. I unapologetically guided him exactly where and how I wanted him. He let me know what he needed with appreciative nibbles on my breasts or guttural moans into my neck.

By the time we fell into a sweaty heap on the bed, I was spent on a molecular level. I turned to tell Dean that I was going to take a quick shower, but he was already asleep with an impossibly adorable look of contentment on his face. 

I took a terribly awkward shower in which I tried to keep my bandaged arm semi-dry. I was actually shocked to find that the dressing hadn’t been disturbed during our activities. I had a vague recollection of Dean carefully maneuvering around it, but it was lost in a haze of the attention he was paying to other parts of my body.  
I came out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel on my hair expecting to fall back into bed next to a sleeping Dean. Instead, three heads swivelled toward me. 

The tall brunette blushed fiercely and turned away. So that had to be Sam.

The man in the overcoat looked at me with good-natured curiosity and no hint of embarrassment. That must be their angel, Castiel.

Dean smiled at me with an odd mixture of pride, defiance and affection.

“Sam. Cas. This is Watts. Watts. My brother and my...Cas,” Dean said by way of introductions. I noticed he hadn’t bothered to get out of bed or get dressed. One of the tangled sheets was providing him a little cover, though it looked more inadvertent than intentional.

Castiel stepped forward with an extended hand. “Castiel,” he said in a gravelly voice that made me think he didn’t get an instruction manual with his vessel. “I’m sorry what my brother Raeal did to your husband. We are not all like that. We did not know what he had done until it was too late.”

I shook his hand slowly and he looked relieved that I didn’t attack him for the wrongs laid at my feet by one of his kind. 

“Nice to meet you,” Sam said to the wall. “Sorry about this. It’s just that we need Dean to come home. Urgently.”

I took the towel off of my head and wrapped it around my body. “Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Sam,” I said. I gathered up my things and slipped my jacket on over the towel. I crossed to the dresser and put all of the switchblades back into the hidden pockets.

“Good night, Winchester,” I said to Dean as I went to the door.

Dean stood up and crossed the room to me. Assuming it was safe if I was leaving, Sam had just turned around in time to get an eyeful of his brother. He made a distressed sound and buried his head in his hands. Castiel was completely unfazed by Dean’s lack of modesty.

Dean took my face in both of his hands and kissed me slowly, deeply, and passionately. If we didn’t have an audience, I would have dropped the towel and climbed right back on top of him. The filthy part of my mind screamed that an audience, this particular audience in fact, would bring the whole thing to an entirely different level. 

Damn, Dean may have shaken something loose.

“I don’t have to go just because they say so,” he said into my ear. 

“Yes you do,” I whispered back to him. “They wouldn’t be here unless someone needed you. And there’s no way to fuck that up...unless you don’t show up.”

“I’ll stop by before we take off,” he said to me a in low rumble. I kissed him on his cheek and dragged my nails down his back just to see him shiver.

“Thanks for the hunt,” I said loudly as I walked out of the room with a laugh.


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this epilogue first and wrote the proceeding chapter to make this make sense. Hope you've enjoyed! It was a blast to write.

ONE YEAR LATER

I kicked open the door of room 23. Dean shot up from the scrubby bed and pointed a pistol at me that he grabbed in his panic. I watched the realization dawn on him that he was not in danger, but I probably was. In fact, I was covered from head to toe in blood-stained clothes. 

“Watts?” Dean whispered in his confusion. His eyes ran up and down my body, pausing at each apparent wound and finally coming to rest on my face.

I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me. I didn’t need any of the other motel patrons seeing me and getting the idea that the police should be summoned.

“Good evening, Dean,” I said with a smile. “A little birdy told me you’d be here.” I toed off my boots and padded across the truly ugly carpet to the bathroom. I grabbed a knapsack on my way.

“That’s Sam’s,” Dean said, unable to come up with anything else to say to me.

I made a general grunt of acknowledgement, but didn’t let this information break my stride. I closed the bathroom door behind me, turned on the shower and stepped into the warm water fully clothed. Well, “fully” may have been a bit of an overstatement. My clothes were shredded. 

I stood in the satisfyingly strong stream of water and let it soak straight through what was left of my clothes. I put my forehead against the tile and took a deep breath. I was safe. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening didn’t surprise me too much. 

“Watts, what the hell?” he said, pulling the shower curtain open. 

“I’m fine, Dean. A little divine healing and I’m good as new,” I snapped the curtain back into place.

Not one to be dissuaded from a conversation when he decided it needed to happen, Dean climbed into the shower with me. I watched the water splash off of my shoulders onto his tee-shirt and jeans and got momentarily lost in the dark patterns that blossomed as a result.

Dean reached out to touch one of the rips in my shirt at my shoulder. His finger slipped through to my skin beneath. He seemed to need confirmation that the trauma didn’t go beyond my clothes.

I sighed and tipped my head back so that the water ran over my face and plastered my red curls against my scalp. I knew that I’d have to fill Dean in on everything. But I needed a few minutes to collect myself before I launched into the whole thing.

I pulled the curtain back and took Dean by the shoulders. I forced him to pivot and guided him out of the shower. “Let me get cleaned up,” I said with a pointed look at the door.

Dean relented and walked out of the bathroom.

With the constant drum of the water on my shoulders to soothe my nerves, I peeled off my clothes and let them plop onto the shower floor with satisfying squelch. I set myself to scrubbing the dried blood off of my skin and pushing the sharp sting of angel blades out of my mind.

Once I was rid of the physical evidence, I dried myself off and got dressed one of Sam’s giant shirts. It went to my knees, so I decided it was enough to be getting on with. I took a deep breath and prepared for the onslaught.

I opened the bathroom door and found Dean standing six inches from it. “Talk,” he said with no preamble.

I walked past him and collapsed into the one desk chair. It was spectacularly uncomfortable, as all hotel desk chairs are, but I was exhausted. I looked at Dean and sighed. He took the hint and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Okay, after the office job --” I began.

“You slipped away in the middle of the night,” Dean supplied.

“You gonna let me talk?” I asked him. He made the locking motion on his lips and threw away the key.

“I got a call right after Sam showed up to drag you back to Kansas. An old hunter friend asked me for help with a small group of demons intent on taking advantage of the leadership vacuum in hell. She needed me and I didn’t have time for goodbyes,” I explained. 

“Then I was going to try to get in touch, but I fell in with some hunters who were in a bit of Hatfields & McCoys type feud with a vampire nest,” I continued. “And after that, Cas recruited me to --”

“Cas WHAT?!” Dean couldn’t help but interrupt, but I glared at him anyway.

“Nope. No. I don’t care if you’re pissed. He knew where you were and didn’t tell me! CAS! Get your feathered ass here right now!” Dean hollered.

A predictable rush of wings later, Cas stood in the middle of the room. “Yes, Dean?”

“You knew where Watts was?” Dean accused him.

Cas looked around to find me smiling at him from the chair. I waved in a friendly-sort-of-way.

“Yes. And now she is right there,” Cas said to Dean, adorably confused.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was working with you?” Dean demanded.

“I did not know you wished to know everyone who works with me,” Cas countered.

“Not everyone, Cas! Watts!” Dean yelled. 

I was slightly taken aback by the intensity of Dean’s reaction. And I had to admit, the feeling it gave me was unparalleled. I had hoped that my connection with Dean meant something more than a one night stand or the typical hunter brotherhood. But I had spent a lot of time convincing myself that it couldn’t possibly mean much more to Dean.

I mean, I understood the life he lived. I knew about the intensity, the need to live life in the moment and to the fullest. I knew the loneliness. I also saw how other people reacted to Dean. This was a man who could have anyone he wanted. And I was fairly certain he’d had quite a few. 

I zoned back into the conversation in time to hear Dean yell at Cas about allowing me to get hurt.

“But I healed her, Dean,” Cas explained calmly. “She’s fine.”

“You know what,” Dean said, rubbing his eyes and sitting back down on the bed, “why don’t you just go ahead and flutter on home. We’ll talk about sharing valuable information with one another later.”

Cas looked from Dean to me. 

I shrugged. 

So Cas left.

Dean and I sat in silence for a long time. Eventually my back began to protest loudly about the quality of the chair and I had no choice but to stand up. The moment I did, Dean matched my movement which resulted in the two of us facing off just a foot away from one another.

“He should have told me where you were,” Dean said, attempting to justify his outburst. “I was looking for you.”

“Well, like the angel said, I’m here now,” I said slowly, raising my eyebrows at him, by way of invitation.

He moved forward and wrapped an arm around my waist. “No way to fuck that up,” he smiled. “Unless I don’t show up.”


End file.
